“Don’t count me out yet,” I said, trying for stern. Failed. “That coffee machine’s practically bloodline.”
The laughter bounced off the walls, warm and familiar. We were still healing. Always would be. But this—this helped. The coffee, the insults, the sugar, the silence.
It was ours. And that was enough to steady the ground beneath us.
I took another sip of coffee. Burned a little. Didn’t care. Heat worked its way down, softened the cold in my bones. Laughter circled the table. Easy. Familiar. Didn’t expect it to feel this good.
Mrs. Tilby entered quiet as ever, shoes soft on old wood. Silver hair neat, bun perfect as usual. She hovered at the edge of the group, hands folded, watching us like a proud aunt.
“Gentlemen,” she said, voice warm with something close to mischief. “I’ve got some news.”
We shut up. When she talked, we listened. Always did. She had that way about her—like she’d keep your secrets and still scold you without saying much.
“The library will be closed for the holidays,” she said, slow and clear.
Groans went up. Noah rolled his eyes like it was a personal betrayal. Couldn’t blame him.
“Three weeks,” she added. “Renovations. Deep cleaning.”
“Three weeks?” Luke groaned, tossing up his hands. “What are we supposed to do? Wither and die?”
“VA forms in the wild,” Javier said. “We won’t make it.”
I didn’t laugh, but I felt it. Still, the weight settled low. This place wasn’t just routine—it was anchor. The thought of losing it, even for a little while, scraped something raw.
I leaned forward, voice steady. “Any alternatives?”
Mrs. Tilby brightened like I’d handed her a wrapped gift. “Actually,” she said, eyes glinting, “I spoke with the girl who runsThe Book Nook.”
Luke sat up straighter. “I thought Fletcher ranThe Book Nook."
“She inherited it from him after he stepped down a few months ago.” Mrs. Tilby nodded, smoothing her cardigan like she was preparing a speech. “She’d be delighted to host you.”
Noah blinked. “You serious?”
“Deadly,” she said, grinning.
Luke leaned in, interest sparked. “Huh. Didn’t even know it was open again.”
“It is,” Mrs. Tilby replied, chipper. “Cozy, yes. Smaller, but more than enough space for you boys.”
Christian’s grin spread. Could already see the wheels turning in his head—books, armchairs, maybe a fireplace. Always did like the idea of stories stacked to the ceiling.
“Sounds promising,” I said. Let the words land slow. Let the others feel it.
Mrs. Tilby winked. “Delighted is an understatement.” Then she turned, walked off like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb.
“Let’s do it,” I said before anyone could start debating. Cut it clean.
The air shifted—buzzed with something just shy of excitement. The kind that came from a surprise you weren’t sure you’d wanted… until it showed up and reminded you what change could feel like when it came with the promise of staying connected.
Chapter2
Callie
Ipulled into the back lot ofThe Book Nook, my breath curling into the frosty air like smoke. The shop looked just like I remembered—red brick, ivy clinging stubbornly to the corners, windows frosted with age and snow. It was worn, a little tired maybe, but still standing. Like me.
I clutched my coffee tighter, letting the heat sink into my fingers as I braced against the cold. My boots crunched over snow as I made my way to the back door, heart doing that nervous-flutter thing it always did when something mattered too much.
